


Wash Off The Blood

by Yourpeachteaprincess



Category: Stydia - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV), martinski - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Martinski, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, References to Teen Wolf (TV), Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yourpeachteaprincess/pseuds/Yourpeachteaprincess
Summary: “ tears which had built up, held back for what seemed like hours now, 
streamed down the boy’s face,a broken sob tearing through the night air ”





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first published one shot, based around the idea that Lydia found Stiles after the whole Donavan thing, the emotional tether they share playing a big part here. Thought it would be nice for Lydia to look after Stiles in this one.
> 
> It ain’t great, but I wrote this quite a while ago (only just posting whoops), and I’ve got tones more ideas regarding Stydia and other ships I just can’t get enough of. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

**N** ight had fallen, blanketing Beacon Hills as stars dotted the indigo sky. The air was brisk, wind slicing through the chilled air. But Stiles couldn't feel it. He sat in his jeep, numb as his hands trembled. His hands... tainted crimson. Darkness surrounded the battered vehicle, shadows shifting, the troubled brunette flitting golden irises towards even the smallest movement. The police car had left. There was no one but him, desolate in the concrete square. He was frozen in place, time sluggish yet eluded him. The cold had begun to seep into his bones, breath hitching as he registered again and again what had just happened. The boy didn't move, only the twitch in his hands pulsed.   
  
The strawberry blonde knew something was wrong. A sudden sense of dread seeping into her muscles as she slept. Her eyelids blinked open as she paused only for a moment, before jumping out of bed. She shoved her feet into running shoes, her pajamas of cotton shorts and an over-sized long sleeved t-shirt un-thought of. Logic wasn’t applied when the banshee felt the undeniable sensation of her abilities, not able to ignore the feeling when so much had depended on it in the past. The fiery female didn't know where she was headed, subconsciously finding herself snatching up her car keys to drive.

Street lamps streaked past the car, reflecting off the damp ground, illuminating the teens face in a yellow glow. Only after a few minutes driving does the banshee realise where she is headed. Pulling up to the school, the redhead slung into the empty car park, scanning the tarmac for signs of him. It only took a couple of moments for the girl to see it. The jeep was backed into the shade of a tree, carrying a non-moving figure. Dread surged over the girl, clenching her jaw as she clambered out of her car, hastily sprinting across the tarmac to come to the passenger side. A breath exhaled through a heaving sigh at the sight of the raven hair boy, sat slouched in the drivers seat. The young man remained stock still, rigid in place. A small knock rapped on the glass of the window, the teen jolting at the sudden sound that ripped through the silence, snapping his head to stare wide eyed in her direction. 

He took a moment to register that it was her, only shaking himself out of the terrified trance when she gave him a little wave Her hair is tangled and crazed, burning like a dull ember in the shadows. Emerald orbs search whiskey ones, her lips and cheeks flushed pink with the cold. She inclined her head, an invitation into his space. In answer, Stiles reached over yanking at the handle to open the door, retreating back to stare at his scarlet coated hands, clutching on to the steering wheel like a lifeline. The strawberry blonde waited before climbing into the hunk of metal. She watched him for a few seconds, worrying her lip as he remained silent. Letting her gaze skate over him  to ensure he was unhurt, her eyes snagged onto the blood crusted shoulder of his shirt, the plaid material ripped and matted with red. She frowned, perfect brows furrowing as her breath quickened, not sure what to do with the prospect that he was injured. Panic began to bubble up as he remained motionless, seemingly unaware of the wound. Questions and queries flew through the banshee’s head, though kept silent in the delicate situation.

Tentatively, dainty hands reached out to the quivering ones, able to break the wheel given a little more pressure. On first contact the shivering boy flinched, only relaxing when warmth seeped into his skin from her touch. The 5 ft 3" redhead rubbed a thumb over the back of Stiles' hand, squeezing to remind him of her presence. Tears which had built up, held back for what seemed like hours now, streamed down the boy's face, a broken sob tearing through the night air. The banshee’s stomach twisted as she felt the horror roll off of him in waves, her heart dropping into her stomach as she waited, useless as he cried. 

Hushing him repeatedly, the petite woman wiped away his tears, feeling her own pricking her eyes at the sight of such a bright young man reduced to this. One so full of energy and life, now weeping in the darkness. Shifting close to him, the girl stroked his hair, cheek pressed to his dark tresses until the sniffling subsided. Only when the boy emitted a heavy sigh, did the girl speak.  
  
"Come on." Her small whisper broke the silence. "Lets get you home. Leave the jeep, I can get it for you tomorrow. You're in no state to drive." She rambled on as she got out, reluctant to release him only to circle the car to his side. Opening the drivers door, the fireball of a female tugged gently on his shirt. To encourage movement, Lydia weaved her hand underneath his own, prying him out the car. He allowed their fingers to be laced together, shifting his eyes to her. She graced him with a timid smile, lips pulling at the corners. He managed a small smile back, despite everything, despite his world crashing around him. After coaxing, the strawberry blonde succeeded in getting him into her own car, locking his beloved jeep to leave for the Stilinski household.  
  
The Sheriff was on a night shift, the house empty and still without anyone to move it along. The banshee guided the distressed human into his home, finding the key in the hanging flower basket and letting them in. She wasted no time walking them both up the stairs to the bathroom, the young man following in a trance. Perching him on the closed toilet, the teen straightened. Taps were turned, and soon hot bubbly water filled the bathtub, inviting in a fog of steam. Where he was placed, Stiles sat with his hands hanging down in between his knees, his eyes unfocused. Exhaling a long held breath, Lydia moved to kneel before him, brushing stray locks out of his face as she looked up. Her fingertips painted patterns over his cheeks, a trail of warmth bringing Stiles closer to reality. His irises persistently unfocused, were brought back at her touch, fixating on the faint smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks.   
  
"Lets get those hands washed, shall we?" She proposed. He stood obediently next to her as she bathed his hands in the sink, tenderly washing off the blood, the water running pink. She dried digits with a towel as he watched her, eye lashes flitting and teeth gnawing at her soft lips in worry.  
  
"Now, I know baths aren't conventionally 'manly', but they work wonders for me." Lydia muttered, hands on her hips. "Well then?"  
  
Stiles frowned, his dark brows puckering. "Well what?"  
  
"Get undressed." This time his eyebrows flew into his hair line.  
  
"Excuse me?" His voice faltered in confusion and embarrassment, cheeks rouging at the prospect she proposed. Brow furrowing, the redhead frowned at the bashful boy.    
  
"You can't bath with clothes on!" She exclaimed, offering up her hands in a gesture to his current dressed state. Stiles let out a quite chuckle, bringing an eased smile to the banshee's lips at the sound, tension trickling from the room. The lanky boy contemplated her idea, eyes squinting as he shied away.  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
"Oh come on Stiles," Lydia started, "You won't be the first naked male I've seen. I'm not going to look or anything, I'll even turn away! But that shoulder injury is going to hinder your bath time." She concluded in a sing-song voice, folding her arms over her chest. Rolling his eyes to the heavens, the boy threw his arms out helplessly, defeated, meaning the woman’s logic had won.  
  
"Fine, promise not to look?" He made her vow with a point of his finger.   
  
"Cross my heart." She mimed drawing said cross over her heart and turned away. Letting an exasperated sigh escape chapped lips, the boy undressed to slip into the hot water.  
  
"I'm good." He whispered once settled, nervous energy fizzling through his blood stream as he gazed at the back of the petite female. Turning to find Stiles surrounded by bubbles, purple and pink in the lights reflection, chocolate orbs slightly bloodshot from the tears, and lips pursed as he looked anywhere but in her direction, the girl stifled a titter. If she hadn't found him the way she did, she would have thrown him a sarcastic comment, their usual banter surfacing. However, this picture was too adorable to disturb. She grinned at him, and tied her hair into a knot, messy on top of her head. Kneeling down beside the tub, the young woman reached into the warm water to cup it onto his hair, wetting it. His eyes slid shut as she grabbed the shampoo, a quiet groan escaping as she massaged his scalp, her hands combing through the almost black tresses. A happiness like no other crashed over Stiles, a contentment bubbling and popping bellow the relaxed surface.    
  
Lydia rinsed Stiles' brunette locks, washing his skin with a sponge, still careful to miss his shoulder wound. She turned as he got out to dry, wrapping a towel around his hips as his shook out his hair. His hair, black when wet, dripped at the nape of his neck, water droplets running down his back. His eyes were circled with purple from lack of sleep, moles dusted across his cheeks and torso. The strawberry blonde faltered at this sight before busying herself by collecting the first aid to dress and bandage his shoulder, gingerly treating the gash as he flinched, wincing every time he did. Without forethought, she placed a kiss just above the tender skin, the pair both freezing at the sensation. Clearing her throat, the girl left him to get dressed, tip-toeing downstairs to make a calming cup of tea for them both. When she trudged back up the stairs, Stiles pulled on a grey t-shirt over soft pajama bottoms, his hair fluffy and soft after being towel dried. Pausing at the door, pretty pink lips fell into an ‘o’, heart squeezing at the sight of him considerably more animated then when she found him. The young woman pushed away the questions she had for the male, deciding to resolve his situation in the bright morning.  
  
She passed him the tea with a dropped eye line which he accepted with thanks, as they both moved to sit on the edge of his bed in tethered unison.  Lydia folded her bare legs underneath her as she cupped the hot mug, blowing on the steam in an attempt to cool it. With unashamed focus, Stiles analysed her, her strawberry blonde locks pulled into a messy bun, fuzzy from the baths steam, untamed curls falling out around her face. Her porcelain skin almost shined under his bedroom lights, her collar bone visible as her t-shirt fell off her shoulder on one side. Her skin was smooth and milky, a pink flush underneath. The boy swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously. They grey material of her shorts rid up as she shifted, her elegant hands lifting the drink to her impossibly plump lips. Stiles blinked rapidly and shook his head slightly to rid of the stupid thoughts, scolding himself again. Though he couldn't stop the swelling of his heart at the sight, a warmth almost radiating between them in equal measure as they gravitated towards each other.  
  
Empty mugs were strewn on the carpet floor as the two teens lay on Stiles' bed in comfortable silence, eyes down cast as fingers danced together, interlocked.The duvet was pulled over them as they moved closer, finding safety in the soft cocoon they had wrapped themselves in. Facing each other, bodies shifted ever closer, nuzzling into crooks of necks as sleep claimed them, drifting into a dreamless sleep. 


End file.
